In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [95]
Oh, I like it, I like it all right. . . . He would have smiled if he could, but all he could manage was the next breath the machine gave him.
“Riley sends her best love and she’s looking forward to our Sundays together again. I don’t know whether it’s you or the Beluga, but this kid is anxious to go to dinner with you. You may have started something bigger than you thought.”
I can’t wait. Can’t wait to hear Riley laugh again, that hearty rollicking little-girl laugh that comes from her gut. . . . She can have an ounce of Beluga all to herself, even though I guess it’ll make her sick. . . . I just love that kid.
“And Harriet sends love, too,” Mel said. “She’s coping with Moving On, in my absence.”
He heard the grin in her voice and wanted to smile too.
“Although of course she has to admit it’s not quite the same without me. . . .”
I’ll bet.
“And I love her to pieces, too,” Mel added thankfully. “She’s just the best friend, taking care of Riley and Lola—who, I know, would send you a great big ankle nip if she could only get at you. . . .”
Oh, that darn little dog . . . I guess I’m just gonna have to live with it. Lola is a big part of Riley’s life . . . that is, if I can only get my own act together and live. . . .
“I’m going to be quiet now,” Mel said softly. “Let you rest, gain some strength back. Just know I love you, Ed Vincent, that’s all.”
She was kissing him, oh so gently, on the lips. Or whatever part of his mouth she could get to, with all the tubes and the ventilator and all. . . . It was a happy thought to drift out to oblivion on, to a peaceful place, out there in the blackness. . . .
Once again, Camelia was waiting to interview a man. This time it was Alberto Ricci, and the location was a sumptuous townhouse in Manhattan on East Sixty-fourth, with Bonnards and Picassos on the silk-paneled walls and swagged brocade draperies at the tall windows. Pacing impatiently back and forth, Camelia surveyed the priceless antiques and thought the place must have cost more than he would ever make in his lifetime. Yet, as Ricci came smiling toward him, hand outstretched, he did not envy this man one bit.
Inquiries had revealed nothing. Ricci was as clean as a whistle. No record, no black marks against him. Yet, there was something in his eyes, an emptiness that belied the warmth of his smile and the firmness of his handshake, his friendly slap on the back and his apologetic words.
“Of course I know Ed,” Ricci admitted now.
“Though not intimately. We often met at the same functions. You know what a generous contributor to charity Vincent was. Is,” he corrected himself hastily. “Like myself, he believes in helping others.”
I’ll bet you do, Camelia thought, glancing around at the plush surroundings.
“I just didn’t realize that my property dealings had anything to do with Ed’s misfortune. Even now, I still can’t believe this involved the deal. Jesus, Detective, do you think I wouldn’t have given up bidding for the property in an instant, if I’d thought there was any trouble?”
No, Camelia thought as he walked slowly back down East Sixty-fourth Street, hands thrust in the pockets of his dark suit. I don’t think that, Mr. Ricci. I think you know something I don’t know.
Mel glanced up as Camelia entered the hospital room. He looked the way she felt. Exhausted.
She got to her feet to embrace him, then held him at arm’s length, inspecting him.
“You look terrible,” she said.
He grinned. “Makes two of us. How about a cup of coffee?”
She glanced at Ed. The green lines on the monitor blipped calmly, endlessly. Infinitely, she prayed.
It wasn’t Brotski on duty outside the door, but a new uniform, a replica of the skinny kid in an oversized cop outfit with a shiny new badge. He got smartly to his feet as Detective Camelia emerged, and Mel thought tenderly that the poor young man looked bored. She guessed he had expected more excitement from police work than just long hours outside a closed hospital-room